


The Last Goodbye

by Hazelbunny



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Funeral, Gen, Grief/Mourning, eulogy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 04:54:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14301237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hazelbunny/pseuds/Hazelbunny
Summary: The day was beautiful. Everyone was together. There were cameras everywhere. No one in the world was ready for today. Especially not Bucky.





	The Last Goodbye

3:15 am  
It’s was dark outside, the dawn a Few hours away still. A woman with blonde short hair and red roots was sitting at the window in her bedroom staring out over the Manhattan skyline, watching the stars slowly fade as time passed. Today was going to be one of the longest of her life, but days had passes since she last slept a full night. The previous, she hadn’t slept at all. She didn’t know when she would ever sleep again.

4:30 am  
He lay awake in his borrowed bed, feigning a sleep until his alarm was meant to go off in thirty minutes. He knew he needed to keep it together for everyone else, but there is only so much training counseling can give you, and nothing had ever prepared him for this. When he woke up at 5, he would take a shower, brush his teeth, try (but fail) to eat, and don a black suit he had hoped to never have to wear, especially for this. Until then, he clenched his eyes shut and let the tears fall.

5:45 am  
The workshop was completely quiet besides the gentle breathing of the man within the room. His tools and projections were set up, but nothing had been reviewed since the ship had landed and heralded a warning of war across earth. No music had played over the stereo since the invaders had landed and killed countless of people what seemed like just hours ago. He had lost track of time siting in the windowless room, unable to accept this wasn’t something he could fix. None of his blood or sweat or tears could postpone the inevitable.  
A soft beep came across his speaker system, a reminder to start preparing.

7:00 am  
Landing on the roof of Avengers tower, he thought back onto all the glorious battles and trials his shield brothers and he had faced together. Eons of war and glory had its equal share of destruction and heartache. He, out of everyone here probably has the most experience with brothers fallen in battle, but as he approached the door on the top balcony to enter, he hesitated for a moment. Taking a deep breath, he straightened up and prepared to console those who would be hurting worse today than he. This was the one thing experience never made any easier.

8:15am  
The common area offered a spectacular view of the city from its floor to ceiling window, and often times he would gaze out across the horizon trying to spot the smallest things he could. This morning was as clear as any day could hope to be. Traffic was light, smog was low, but even though he looked out of habit, he saw nothing of the crowds that had been gathering below since before he left his bed that morning. Breakfast had been brought up, but none of his teammates behind him had eaten a thing. He couldn’t blame them. His usually voracious appetite was nowhere to be found. Food tasted like ash in his mouth and nothing could give him any reprieve from his feelings of loss or guilt for not being able to make the shot the one time it truly mattered.

9:30 am   
With less than three hours until everyone arrived at the tower, Bruce was performing a last session of meditation before facing the crowd of people that had been growing exponentially outside since before dawn broke. In a break of scheduling, the subways and trains had been running non stop for the past two days in anticipation for the crowds that may turn up, and the gathering outside gave proof to the endeavor. So many people gathered together to support each other and them. What a pity, he thought to himself, that this is what it took to end the civil war among them all.

10:45 am  
The streets of New York leading up to St. Patricks cathedral were the quietest they had ever been. people lining the streets dozens of people deep cast shadows on the sidewalk, but not even the shadows could compete with the black dress worn by the almost all of New York that day. The bright sun shone down on the city as a slow breeze curved through the skyscrapers and rustled the garland and flowers decorating the streets of the Burroughs. The projectors set up in Central Park for the procession spilled onto the streets around and the little traffic that wasn’t diverted consisted of dignitaries and police escorts driving slowly to the steps of the church. The the June day would have been perfect-except for the event scheduled to take place.

Wanda could feel the millions upon millions of people in the city and beyond focusing their thoughts on them. It was overwhelming her already distraught mind. Normally it was easy to ignore the minds of those around her, but the press of so many grieving souls pressed upon her like a mountain of sorrow. It was all she could do to hold in her wails of agony, but she needed to find the one mind that was seeming unique in its ability to turn blank. She had to find him, or she would not know what to do. Vision floated over to her and placed an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in for an embrace.

After awhile of resting her head on his shoulder, she whispered  
“Do you think he will come? I cannot feel him anywhere nearby, and the c-“ she choked on the word, unable to think it, let alone say it. “everything will arrive soon in preparation for the procession.”  
Vision sighed “this day has been dreaded by all of us, but none so much as him. He will take this harder than any of us can imagine, having just found each other again, only to have it ripped away.”

12:00  
He had kept his vigil overnight, unable to bare a the thought of his last chance to look at him wasting away. He knows the Avengers are wondering if he will even show up. He hadn’t seen any of them except for T’Challa since the king had arrived two days ago. When the casket was transported from the room it was held to the ground floor, he stayed beside it. When they loaded it onto the open carriage draped in an American flag, surrounded by flowers, he was there carrying him with tony, Clint, Thor, Bruce, and Sam. During the two hour procession from the tower, past the Metropolitan Museum of Modern Art, through Central Park and back down to the steps of St Patrick’s, he stayed beside him, silence all around except for the military taps leading the way. The Whole of New York had lined the streets, but none of them were the person he most wanted walking beside him- the one person who would never walk beside him again.

2:30 pm  
The casket made its way up the isle of the church to the platform raised in the center for it to rest on. Every pew was full and no standing room was left as the final pallbearers took their seats. the service began.   
“Welcome all today who are present at this solemn occasion. We are gathered together under one roof to remember, honor, and celebrate the life of one Captain Steven Grant Rogers, better know to some as Captain America. Captain Rogers sacrificed his-” Bucky stopped paying attention to the words being said and simply looked at the casket resting in the middle of the church. Why did this matter? Nothing mattered anymore. Steve was gone. He was gone and there was no body to find in the snow, because the body was right there, lying in a wooden box that did no justice to the man inside it. The love of his life was laying just feet away, but that may as well been planets for all the good it would do them. Bucky had never cared for the shell encasing Steve’s soul, only the indefinable man within, and now that man was gone.  
The hundreds of people within the church and the hundreds of thousands outside it didn’t understand how precious the soul they lost was. Would never realize it. They only cared for the mask he wore and the uniform to match. No one here knew Steve like he did. Lost him quite like he did. Sam gently nudged his side as the priest continued his service and introduced the first reader to the podium. One by one, the avengers all stood and read verses meant to comfort and console. He felt hollow. He tried to pay attention to the words spoken, but he didn’t care- Until it was time for the eulogy.   
“To speak one last eulogy before we conclude this service is perhaps the one man here who knew Captain Rogers longer and more intimately than the rest of us-Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes of the Howling Commandos and the 107th, recent addition to the Avengers and true hero against in the recent invasion that nearly cost us all here our lives.” He stood slowly, aware for the first time since entering the church all eyes on him as he walked to the podium in front of the alter. He had not prepared a speech. He didn’t need to. He had known what he would say since he first saw Steve lying in the casket lined with silk that did no one any good.

“As all know, Steve Rogers was born in Brooklyn on July 4, 1917 to Sarah and Robert Rogers. Raised by a single mother after his father died by mustard gas in the Great War, Steve fought through illness and rejection to become Captain America, Hero to all. But Captain America was Simply a Mask worn by Steve in the second war as a means to avoid experimentation and waste the give he was given by the Government. Steve was and is so much more than Captain America Can ever be, for what value is a mask without a man behind it? What value is a symbol without something to prove its worth? Just empty promises, easily refilled. Captain America is the enduring symbol it is today because Steve Rogers turned him from a propaganda character into a real hero. Because Steve disobeyed orders to save the lives of over four hundred men when he was told to wait for the war to be over. Because Steve rejected the army’s selection for a recon team, the United States gained its first racially integrated unit. But Steve’s heroism didn’t start with Captain America. It didn’t start with the war, and it didn't start when he had to get by on his own when his mother died. His heroism began the first moment he faced hatred and decided he wouldn’t stand by. I don’t know when this was, because when he stood up to two boys throwing rocks at a cat in an alleyway- and I saw him for the first time getting back up off the ground every time he was knocked down- the first time had long since past.  
He would split his lunch with the tenement children at school, even though he was no better off himself. He would walk the younger girls to their homes when he saw they were scared to go by themselves. He would make sketched and drawings of the children in classes who were made fun of to cheer them up. And he would even get between the queer men or women and those who threatened them, simply so they could get away from their attackers. Not once through the broken bones and fevers and sicknesses he received from refusing to give up or give in to anything did he falter. His conviction that he would do something simply because there was even the slightest chance it would help someone gave him a will of iron and a moral compass that has almost never falter.   
From his schoolyard bullies, to the very government he swore loyalty towards, to his best friends, none of these would ever change his mind if he believed his actions would help someone. He lived this until his very end. We are alive today because, not Captain America, but Steve Rogers refused to back down, refused to give in, and refused to give up. Captain America-Steve- has endured and will continue in our hearts and minds and stories because he represented what it truly means to be a hero.   
True heroism is remarkably sober, very undramatic. It is not the urge to surpass others whatever the cost, but to serve others at whatever the cost. Steve’s commitment to service in all forms and in all place made him one of the greatest people I will eve know.through hims sacrifice to the world, the best way we can honor his memory is to follow his lead and serve others above all else, to defend others above all else and to support each other above all else. Steve Rogers may not live on, but through Captain America and the meaning of heroism given to him by the man who made him, his spirit will live on in others. We did not deserve the man we gather here to honor, but if we follow his lead, as I have tried to do since our first meeting in a dirty alleyway, one day we just may.”

Silence pervaded the cathedral, but as he went to sit back down, a cheer could be heard rolling through the streets of New York through the doors.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is me getting out feelings pre-Infinity War because who the hell knows what is going to happen. This was typed out in an afternoon of frustration and not checked for spelling. I will probably come back soon and correct any errors, but if I don’t just go ahead and post it now, I never will. A quote from Arthur Ashe made its way in here, so any profound words are probably not mine, just like the characters.


End file.
